


Wilted

by romanticpoetry



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: M/M, Raphael Santiago - Freeform, Saphael, Simon Lewis - Freeform, Unrequited Love, Vampire Raphael, Vampire Simon, Vampires, raphael santiago deserved better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 08:58:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6511579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticpoetry/pseuds/romanticpoetry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon returns to the Hotel DuMort to see Raphael.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wilted

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm Lily and I hope this fic helps people realize Raphael Santiago deserved so much better.
> 
> Also, this takes place after the events of the season finale. (1x13)

It was the first time Simon had seen Raphael since Clary, Isabelle and him set Camille free. At the time, the only thing that crossed his mind was Clary’s well-being. It made no difference to Simon whether Raphael was with or against them, even though it should. All he could think about was Clary. It’s stupid; Simon knows that for sure.

He regrets it now. Upon seeing Raphael again, his smoldering glare -- not without the tiny hint of longing trapped within his eyes that was present whenever he saw Simon -- taken into account, Simon recognizes, for lack of a better phrase, how bad he fucked up. 

Raphael was there for Simon when he hadn’t recognized the person, or rather, thing he’d become. Raphael saved his life on a number of occasions, and then even promised to look out for him. Raphael took Simon into his home, taught and trained him and even let him wear his clothes. Raphael helped Simon come to terms with his new self and made Simon realize he’s not a monster. But now, Simon might as well be. After the way he treated Raphael, Simon’s surprised Raphael let him within ten blocks of the Hotel DuMort, let alone inside it.

“Are you just going to stand there, fledgling?” Raphael snapped, pulling Simon out of his thoughts. Raphael stood against the wall, near one of the windows overlooking the street in front of the hotel. Simon took a step further into the room and Raphael’s glare intensified. “Why did you come here?” The attitude that was ever present in Raphael’s words was suddenly gone, replaced by a tiredness that only multiplied Simon’s feeling of guilt. 

Simon forced a smile as he ignored Raphael’s questions. 

“You look handsome. That’s one of my favorite suits of yours. You look great in dark blue.” Simon said, his last few words trailing off as if they were swallowed by Raphael’s glare. Simon watched Raphael as he closed his eyes, a combination of sadness and lethargy sweeping across his face. Simon sighed before giving up his attempt at small talk. “I came here to apologize.”

“Dios,” Raphael nearly sighed, the ghost of weariness and depression leaving his face, replaced by a sort of irritation. “I’m not interested in your apology.” Raphael said. 

The tone of his voice was unusual for him, the overbold undertone absent as he spoke with a drained tinge to his words. He stood from where he was leaning almost completely against the wall and looked Simon up and down with a sort of melancholy intent behind his eyes.

Simon didn’t say anything for a long time as they just looked at each other. Simon didn’t recognize the man in front of him, with drooped shoulders and sad eyes. Simon didn’t say anything else, as they made eye contact and Raphael spoke.

“Please,” He paused, Simon thought, to keep his voice from breaking. “Go.” 

The bereavement that hung between them stuck to Simon like chilling wet clothes. Simon hated seeing Raphael in this state, surrounded by a cloud of dysphoria that infected Simon’s whole world. 

Simon didn’t move from where he was standing in the middle of the room. Simon thought he saw the glimmer of a tear in Raphael's eyes, but as soon as he had noticed it, it was gone. 

Raphael spared a last, fleeting and defeated glance at Simon before walking deliberately out of the room, leaving Simon to think only about the way he had, in so many instances, taken Raphael’s looks of longing and endearment for granted.

Despite what Raphael wanted, Simon came back. He came back again and again, day after day. He would stop by the Hotel DuMort with the intention of seeing Raphael again, begging for forgiveness, trying to move past this obstacle that stood between them. Simon was greeted everytime by vampires, different each day but same in the way of their unfriendly stature, keeping him out of the DuMort. Go, they would each say, as Raphael had said to him. This hardly kept Simon away. Simon called, texted, and even wrote letters, in desperate attempts to reach Raphael and express his penitence. 

And Raphael was constantly on his mind. When he was alone, when he was with Clary, when he was trying to fall asleep in the morning; Raphael never stopped running through his mind. Simon hated it.

He hated the thought that he couldn’t see Raphael anymore. Memories constantly replayed themselves in his mind, making him nostalgic. He remembered the time he told Raphael he was going to be attending Alec and Lydia’s wedding as Clary’s date. He had been ecstatic. 

“Not in those clothes, you’re not.” Raphael had said, a grin tracing his lips. Raphael had led Simon to his room, and had helped him pick out a suit of his to wear. Wearing Raphael’s clothes had felt familiar, despite never wearing anything of his before. Simon was a little taller, so the sleeves had been a tad short, but he didn’t mind because the clothes had smelled like Raphael and that’s what Simon had really wanted. He remembers trying on ample amount of suits for Raphael before he had chose one. 

“Dios,” Raphael had said, breathless at the sight of him.

Simon had turned around to look at himself in the mirror, adjusting the front hem of the jacket. The sleeves had been just shy of his wrists, but his shoulders filled out this jacket more than the others he had tried on. 

“Do I look okay?” Simon had uttered the words, fidgeting with the lapels of the jacket. In the mirror, he had been able to see Raphael standing up from where he’d been sitting, moving closer to Simon.

“You do. Better than okay,” He had nearly whispered. Simon had smiled, and gave a chuckle, whirling around to see the vampire boy in front of him. They had stood close enough for Simon to see the gleam of affection behind his eyes. Simon had blushed, taking a step back. 

“Are you sure it’s okay that I borrow this for the wedding?” Simon had inquired. “I’ve ruined so many of your jackets, I’ve lost count. Not to mention how expensive these must be. How can you trust I won’t ruin this one, too?” 

Raphael had guffawed lightly, casting his glance to his shoes. “I trust you.” Was all he had said.

\--

Raphael watched Simon come back every day after that. He watched Simon approaching everyday at around the same time in the evening, Simon hoping he would be let into the building and Raphael doing everything he could to make sure that wouldn’t happen. It’s not that Raphael didn’t want to see him, because he did. He wanted to see Simon and be with Simon and act like everything was okay, but he couldn’t. Things weren’t okay and he couldn’t be with Simon without feeling like everything he’d done had been for nothing.

Raphael already had issues with trusting people before Simon came along. He had built a wall, separating himself for years. Simon tore down that wall. The mundane boy who was ridiculously annoying and couldn’t help but ramble on about things when he was nervous. The fledgling who looked to him for instructions, who came to Raphael for help before anyone else, who learned to love and accept himself again under the guidance of Raphael. The vampire who was sure of himself and confident, who wore Raphael’s jackets that unconsciously made him puff out his chest. Simon tore down the wall Raphael had so carefully and meticulously built and Raphael didn’t seem to mind.

In retrospect, Raphael knew it would happen eventually. He knew there would be an instance where Raphael’s help wouldn’t be enough for Simon. It was expected that Simon side with Clary over Raphael, and Raphael knew this. He knew that no matter what he did, no matter how carefully he protected the boy, no matter how many times he had saved his life, Simon would undoubtedly run away with Clary the first chance he got.

This is why Raphael did everything Simon asked of him. Raphael did these pesky favors for Simon because if Raphael could give Simon everything he wanted, they would be fine. He would give him everything, and every time he knew it was a risk. He ran the risk of losing Simon the first time things did not go his way. The minute Simon asked for something Raphael could not give him, he would toss Raphael aside like a used toy. And that’s exactly what had happened.

Raphael watched Simon bound down the sidewalk for stories above. His vision was heavily obscured by the heavy rainfall outside the window, soaking the streets below with streaks of gray. 

“Stan,” Raphael called out. Only seconds later his second in command was in the doorway. “Let him in.” Was all he said. Stan nodded curtly before disappearing out of the room.

Raphael made his way to the couch in the center of the room, as his left hand seemed to unconsciously grab a Bloody Mary off the counter. Without hesitation he brought it to his lips. The taste of the cocktail was refreshing and familiar to him. This helped him relax. His back was to the doorway as he heard a knock, then the doorknob turn.

“Raphael?” A voice echoed through the otherwise silent room. Raphael didn’t turn around as the familiar sounding character shut the door behind him. “Sorry,” the voice paused. “Mister Santiago. That’s what Stan referred to you as.” It was Simon. A ghost of a grin graced Raphael’s features, but was soon wiped away by reality. Raphael neither spoke nor moved, refusing to acknowledge the new presence in the room. Raphael listened to Simon’s footsteps as he huffed out a breath and made his way further into the room, coming into view across from where Raphael was sitting.

Simon looked dead. This was coming from Raphael, who had seen Simon literally dead. The shadows under his eyes were dark swamps of weariness and the downward arch of his eyebrows gave off a sense of debilitation. Raphael said nothing.

“You probably know why I’m here,” Simon began. There was a long pause as Raphael’s eyes scraped through the layers of Simon’s fatigue. Raphael could see that Simon had not slept in at least five days and, by the looks of it, had not fed either. Raphael couldn’t stand seeing Simon in such a weak state. 

“You need blood,” Raphael replied after a long silence. He reached out and slid the Bloody Mary across the table between them. Raphael sat back in his position on the couch and watched as Simon said nothing but accepted the drink. He grabbed the glass with two hands, downing the liquid all in one. 

“That’s not why I’m here.” Simon said, as he set the glass back down on the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He perched himself on the armrest of the gold chair beside him. “But thank you.” Raphael remained silent and stared hard at the boy. “Why did you let me in today?” Raphael heard the cautious nature of his words as he spoke them, as if he were treading on thin ice.

“It was raining.” Raphael replied shortly. It became obvious to Simon then that Raphael was waiting for him to address the hindrance between them.

“Man,” Simon said, with a huff of breath and a forced laugh. “I love small talk.” 

“I believe you’re the one who entered my home, amigo.” Raphael spoke harshly, his final word dripping with an immense amount of grudge and sarcasm. Simon squirmed where he sat, folding his hands in on themselves, almost, it looked like to Raphael, like he was a child awaiting punishment in the principal’s office. “I think you’d better get to the point.”

“You’re right.” Simon conveyed quietly, as if saying the words loudly would hurt him. He let out a shaky breath before continuing. “I...I spent so much time over the past week and a half since I saw you last thinking about you, and what I was going to say to you, and how I could make you forgive me.” Simon chose his words carefully, his head tilted down the entire time he spoke. After a quiet pause, he looked up at Raphael, a flicker of despondency evident on his face. “Now I have nothing.”

Neither of them spoke for a couple of minutes. They sat in an uncomfortable silence, not for the lack of knowing the other boy, but for the bereavement between the two. Raphael wondered longingly if what Simon had said was true, if he had really spent so much of his time thinking about Raphael, then immediately dismissed the thought, replaced by his alternate stoicism. Simon was the first to speak again.

“Thank you,” was what Simon said. This was not what Raphael had expected to hear. “It occurred to me after you left me standing there the other day, that I have never once said thank you for all the things you’ve done for me. So here it goes.” Simon drew in another shaky breath, as if he were nervous.

“Thank you for saving my life so many times. And thank you for promising to look after me, even when you didn’t have to.” Simon glanced at Raphael. “Because without you, I wouldn’t be here. I mean, I literally wouldn’t be here, I-I wouldn’t be alive. But I also wouldn’t be here, at the Hotel. If you hadn’t come after me -- looked after me -- I would have ran so far my legs would have fallen off.”

“Get to the point.” Raphael said again, sternly, but he knew the other boy couldn’t help but ramble. 

“Thank you for letting me stay at the Hotel DuMort. Thank you for training and teaching me how to be a good vampire. Who knew there were such things as good vampires? Who knew I’d be such a bad one?” Simon gave a light chuckle but Raphael stayed silent.

“Thank you for helping me with everything. I mean, literally, everything.” He put emphasis on the word. “It was stupid of me to disobey you and let Camille out, but Clary is my best friend and I would have done anything to wake Jocelyn. In a way, she’s like my mom, too.” He finished, and Raphael continued to stay quiet, focusing his hard glare on Simon’s big brown eyes.

In that moment, Raphael realized something about Simon. Simon needed protection. He needed to be safe at all times, have a feeling of guaranteed refuge, because without it, Simon cowered. Simon was only learning the ways of his new life and while he couldn’t protect himself, he needed someone there who could. 

Raphael gave him that. Raphael gave him a sense of stability no one else in his life could manage. Raphael, who had so thoughtfully cared for Simon, who had put all of Simon’s needs above his own, who had trained himself for years to not let his petty feelings get to him, gave Simon a perception of security no one had given Simon his entire life.

Simon was one of two things: an astute thinker, or an oblivious moron. Simon had either been very careful not to confuse his trust of Raphael for love, or he had not thought at all about Raphael in an affectionate way. Raphael could not tell which was worse.

Raphael supposed he should have known better. This was not the first time he had fallen in love, and it wouldn’t be the last. Raphael tore at himself for years the previous time, cursing himself for being so blind to what was really going on. He’d done it again with Simon. He let down his guard, and he got hurt again, like he always would. It was a continuous cycle.

In the very back of Raphael’s mind, a detail so microscopic it barely existed, Raphael knew it wouldn’t last. Every minute spent with Simon was fleeting, every conversation ephemeral. Raphael would keep up this act of everything being okay, because every moment when he was graced with Simon, he was happy. Raphael knew he would never see the sun again, but he also knew that it didn’t matter, for every time Simon smiled, it was as if there were a hundred tiny suns trapped within the curve of his lips and the crinkles beside his eyes. 

“You’re welcome.” Raphael finally said, his voice coming out a little hoarse. Simon’s expression was neutral. “For protecting you. Doing my job.” Simon said nothing to further elaborate on his aforementioned rambling, but Raphael saw the corners of his lips turn up in a small but relieved smile.

“If that’s all you have to say,” Raphael continued, wanting desperately for Simon to leave, to never see Simon again. Vampiric wounds healed fast; unfortunately, this did not apply to broken hearts. “I suggest you leave.”

“Raphael,” Simon started then stopped himself. It seemed like he was at a loss for words. Simon only stood up, uneasiness set into his features. He stood there for a moment before reaching into his pocket and digging something out. Raphael watched him as he pulled out a wilted white rose. 

He set it on the table. “This was from the wedding...Alec and Lydia’s wedding. Non-wedding, I guess.” Simon babbled. Raphael breathed out a irritated huff, catching Simon’s attention. “I wish you could have come with me.” Simon finished, showing Raphael a sad smile before turning away from the boy. He exited the room the way he came in, the doorway behind where Raphael was seated on the couch. Raphael made no sound nor movement as Simon left.

After many minutes, Raphael leaned forward and picked up the wane flower on the table. He held it in his hand, gently as to not break the withered petals. He wondered how something once so full of life could be so diminished now, so forgotten. 

And he cried. For the first time in a long time, Raphael cried. Raphael cried for himself, for his own broken heart, but mostly for this flower. 

This flower that had once bloomed so brightly, so beautifully, so full of color and life. This flower that was now dead and sad, shrivelled and faded, not worthy of the love it had gotten before. He cried because this flower, he felt, was him.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. Gabriel If you're reading this and you drag me for my username I will hunt you the fuck down.


End file.
